Der Triumph
by sophiagin
Summary: Vienna State Opera House was about to stage Don Juan Triumphant after the fatal night. Erik and Christine were forced to face their past in different ways. Was God playing some trick again? EC, Raoul-friendly. Based on Leroux, Kay, ALW and 2004 film.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

**Hey, guys! This is my first phanfic so please be nice. :) The phanfic is based on Leroux, Kay, ALW and the 2004 film. Reviews are welcome, especially constructive suggestions. Also, as a non-native speaker, I would welcome any comments on language use. Thx a lot! I'll always try my best to bring something new to all readers. **

**Disclaimer:**

I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, which belongs only to Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay and Andrew Lloyd Webber. The 2004 film was directed by Joel Schmacher.

* * *

**Der Triumph**

Dedicated to Steven, who used to be music-mania and would have definitely loved The Phantom of the Opera.

**Prologue**

Christine had gone.

Erik sat by the table, sipping his coffee and scanning the newspaper in the apartment of the Persian.

He was worn out both physically and mentally, but not weak enough to break down, after the violent scene beneath the opera house last night. He was exhausted not for his fight with Raoul de Chagny, but for his own murderous intentions. It could have been easy for him to finish off that spoiled boy and to have Christine as his trophy, but would it work? He had lost Christine forever the moment he punjabbed Ubaldo Piangi and brought down the chandelier. He finally understood why jealousy could drive one mad… He always knew that Christine had never been a prize to win. What else could he gain from that stupid _Don Juan's Triumphant_ other than Christine's disgust? It seemed like a childish trap set by a silly schoolboy…

_Don Juan's Triumphant_… Christine's words of longing were still haunting him. Although they were written by him, it felt so different to hear her sing them out to him on the stage. Her glittering eyes, her hair, her body in his arms… Oh, how he wished to believe that her feelings were true, but how could he believe so? What evil it was that the ungrateful little woman displayed his face to the world! But then came her sweet kiss… He had never been kissed before, not even by his mother. No matter what purpose it was for, she was the first person that dared to kiss him…

Now everywhere in his body was aching. He was surprised that he did not collapse after the fatal performance the night before, nor did he have any attempt to commit suicide, though he had been convinced that he would do so.

As a matter of fact, his current condition was even worse than that. It seemed to him that he had lost all senses, neither pain nor anger. Only a musical instrument could do much help, but since he was now using the Persian's poor apartment as his shelter, he could only wander in his room all day long, doing nothing.

"Erik!" called the Persian, who walked into the kitchen and immediately shrank from the sight of Erik. "_The Living Corpse_", the title now suited him better than ever before. He was so bony and pale that he looked as if he had just woken from a coffin buried for centuries, while sometimes his golden eyes used to sparkle, indicating the energy remained inside. However, now the flame in his eyes was put out. His skin was as yellow as parchment, and there was no sign of living in his entire being. That Phantom playing cunning tricks with the mean managers had gone; that man declaring boldly his love towards a perfect girl had gone; that Don Juan singing passionately on the stage had gone; that Erik devoted completely to the very essence of music and beauty had gone… The man was dead, leaving a senseless corpse and a dormant volcano behind him.

"Erik!" The Persian called again.

"Sorry?" Erik raised his head abruptly.

"How are the critics?"

"Not bad. The public's attention was drawn to the ghost. No one would think of the opera any more."

"I've got a letter for you." The Persian handed a small envelope to him.

Erik opened the letter suspiciously before his eyes widened in shock.

_Monsieur Erik Destler,_

_I write to you today to express my most sincere regret for the accident during your premiere of _Don Juan's Triumphant_. As a composer too I realize how it feels to receive such a blow in one's premiere, especially for the first opera one has composed in his life. It was lunatic of the managers to decide to take advantage of your splendid work in order to seize the so-called "Opera Ghost", who has not yet proved his actual existence. Also I regret the misfortune of your prima donna, Mademoiselle Christine Daae, that she was obviously embroiled against her will in the siege, so please give my warmest regards to her that I appreciate her outstanding performance._

_Your talented opera, despite the incident, was a triumph. It would undoubtedly bring a revolution in opera business. For decades people have worshiped Mozart's _Don Giovanni_ reverently, thinking that no other opera on the same topic would surpass the genius work. However, as a musician from Mozart's hometown, I daresay you have achieved the impossible dream by retelling the story in such a passionate way. The opera was filled with raw emotion, and the music was quite unusual, freshly new to the audience. I guess we might expand on the topic later when we meet._

_I wonder if we could meet as soon as possible since I am I departing for Vienna this Friday. As the manager of Vienna State Opera House, Austria, I am anxious to introduce _Don Juan's Triumphant_ to Vienna. I will be honored if you consider coming and joining us to develop your further career, for Vienna has always welcome promising musicians in the past few centuries. Also we would like to cast Christine Daae as Aminta, if possible, in Vienna. Would you please consult her for this matter since she has seemingly disappeared from public eye? Please write to me if you have made any decision._

_Trust my words, Monsieur Dessler, that the whole city of Vienna would applaud both of you._

_Sincerely,_

_Fritz M. Schuetz_

"_Both of you_"… The phrase was stinging Erik's eyes.

**TBC**

* * *

**Please feel free to R&R! **


	2. Chapter 1 A New Day

**Hi! Sorry for keeping you waiting. It's been a really tough month... And the first chapter is usually the most difficult one, since the author has to plan for the overall plot. Thank you so much for your kind comments! Please feel free to leave your opinions here. **

**After Don Juan's Triumphant, Erik received an offer from Vienna State Opera House, but what about Christine?**

**Disclaimer:**

I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, which belongs only to Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay and Andrew Lloyd Webber. The 2004 film was directed by Joel Schmacher.

* * *

**Chapter I**

**A New Day**

"Madame, Mademoiselle Daae is here," announced Camille.

"You may go now," ordered a stern voice.

Camille made a curtsy and hurried out of the living room, closing the door silently. Comtess de Chagny was sitting by the desk, observing her with a pair of sharp grey eyes. She was an elegant noble lady at her fifties. Despite her wrinkles, Christine could tell how attractive she used to be with her symmetrical features and her graceful appearance. Her husband's early death placed so many burdens on this once-spoilt comtess that she could have enjoyed her luxurious life without worries, while the truth is that she took the responsibility to educate her two boys and to deal with family business like a man. Now that Comte Philippe de Chagny was independent enough to handle those affairs, the hardship of life left her nothing but those grey eyes, as sharp as an eagle's, on her emotionless face. There was only one thing left; her sons' marriage.

"How are you feeling?"

"Much better. Thank you for keeping me here," answered Christine, coughing slightly.

"Sit down," Chistine settled in the armchair opposite her as ordered. "It's been ages, Mademoiselle Daae. The naughty little girl who played hide-and-seek in the attic is now to be my daughter-in-law."

"It's a small world, Madame," smiled Christine gently.

"Monsieur Daae passed away the year after we left, right?"

"Yes. And then Madame Giry took me to Opera Populaire."

"She served as your guardian, I believe, in Corps de Ballet?" she continued as Christine nodded, "The de Chagnys don't like music. You should know that. Music is too inappropriate, in my opinion, for people in our class, especially the music today, full of sensual gratification. Only Aristotle is suitable for a decent talk. Although we have been a generous patron of Opera Populaire, it was simply for the good of the family, the reputation and the fortune, not for personal interest. However, I believe we will quit after the fatal destruction of the opera house. Raoul is dealing with that."

"Oh," her words sent chills along Christine's spine. _No music? How pathetic._ She closed her eyes for a second, trying to get the ironic voice out of her mind.

"So how did you get your voice as a diva? I knew that you sang well in your childhood, but surely there must have been some professional training…"

Here came the question, thought Christine. "Well…I had this tutor…"

"Oh, tutor," smiled the Comtess, "How did you afford his lessons? An authority must charge a great deal of money for polishing such a sweet voice."

"He taught me for free."

"Why, he gave you this angelic voice for nothing?"

"Yes, in some way. He thought I had potential." Christine started to feel uncomfortable with this conversation. The Comtess wasn't friendly, she could tell. How could she tell this conventional old lady that Erik taught her simply for her singing on stage with her soul completely devoted to him? What would she think about this strange relationship?

"Ah," demanded the Comtess coolly, "Then how did he teach you? There must be something to exchange, especially when the student is such a pretty and innocent young girl."

The statement was more than she could bear, "Madame, my mentor is a _respectful_ maestro of _high_ moral courage! You have NO right to insult either him or me by interrogating me as a criminal! My mentor was a talented, kind and warm-hearted old gentleman, and he _died_ last year, which certainly will never bring scandal to _your_ family! Now would you please excuse me!" Christine burst out of the room. She was lucky that Comtess de Chagny never read the opera column of newspaper otherwise she would have known that no noted composer was died at the end of the year before.

Christine rushed back to the guest room. Throwing her body to the bed, she buried her tear-stained face into the pillow. Suddenly she realized she had just said a full sentence of lies without any hesitation to save her self-esteem…or did she do that to defend him, her tutor? No, she shook her head wildly, trying to get rid of the horrible thought, the thought of Erik's death.

In some way she was telling the truth. Erik was dead and she killed him. What madness it was that she robbed him of his sanity, tore his heart, and murdered his soul! The Angel of Music was dead and Red Death took his place. He punjabbed Joseph Buquet, he smashed the grand chandelier in the middle of a performance, he brought the whole opera house into turmoil with his endless notes, and he used his own music as a tool of revenge... How was he reduced from a genius both sensible and powerful to a desperate man risking anything to pursue the impossible? Who destroyed him? Christine Daae, his pupil, his Muse to inspire him, his prima donna to perform his work, his representative to reach the world…. Not only did she fail him when he lost heart and needed her comfort most, but also she hurt him and humiliated him even more.

"Why me? Why chose me, a naive, capricious, weak, sixteen-year-old girl to achieve your dreams and ambitions? You deserve someone better, much stronger than me to understand you, tolerate you and help you overcome the dark fate of yours," Christine murmured to herself, "I do not deserve you, Erik. Will I ever be able to overcome your ghost?"

"Mademoiselle?" It was Camille knocking at the door.

"Yes?" Christine wiped away her tears and sat up, desperately trying to act as properly as possible.

Camille opened the door and announced, "Vicomte de Chagny is here."

"Raoul!" Christine flew out of the room and clung to the young Vicomte, "Where have you been? I miss you so much!"

"I was dealing with some business, Little Lotte," said Raoul, kissing her forehead lovingly before he noticed the shadow in Christine's eyes, "God, you look so pale! What happened?"

"Well… It seems I have a problem with your mother…"

"Don't be too sensitive. She's always like that, cold and stern, but do trust me, Christine, her intentions are good," Raoul caressed her hair softly, "Now, this news will cheer you up. We are going to hold a ball after you are fully recovered, you know, to announce our engagement officially."

"There will be no ball, Raoul," replied Christine in depression, "Even if our engagement had been true, your mother would not allow the wedding, as I was told, not to mention that we are only _pretending_ to be engaged."

"That's why you deserve the best engagement party, with guests, champagne, and a new ring, a real one. Don't worry and rest well, my little Lotte. Tell me, where do you want to go for honeymoon?" Raoul held up her chin and asked.

"Well, I don't know. I haven't even thought about that…" shrugged Christine.

"Italy, Spain…or even Asia! It's up to you, my dear. We will get married soon after the ball, and you have plenty of time to plan for that. Now I'm going to write a few business letters, would you promise that you would be OK?" asked Raoul in concern, trying to make her happy.

"Raoul, if I had been simply a chorus girl in Opera Populaire, would you have recognized me as your little Lotte? Would you still loved me and accept me to be your fiancée?" She inquired in fret.

"Why, of course, my dear! Don't be so silly," joked Raoul with a broad and cheering smile on his face.

Christine sighed deeply as Raoul walked out of her view.

Raoul strode into the library. Would he have recognized her? The question was ridiculous, obviously, but why was it haunting him? As a spoilt noble young boy, he had never felt such love in his heart before. With Christine, he became passionate, bold and protective. He cherished this delicate childhood sweetheart in so many ways, and the incident of the Opera Ghost made her completely dependent on him. Finally he could realize his responsibility for another one, he enjoyed the feeling that she was made happy and contented simply by his presence, and still, there was something more. Her passion on stage presented him with emotions that he had never experienced before. It felt really good to be so alive.

Then who gave her the passion? Who turned her from a tiny ballet rat to a sparkling prima donna? Who accidently provided him with the chance to reunite with her? Who had he been, and was he still now fighting with? It was that man, always that man:

_Erik Dessler, the Phantom of the Opera._

He was definitely no angel, but the fact that he was an actual man upset Raoul even more. Raoul appreciated Dessler's kindness to spare them two, but as time went by, he grew frightened that Christine might blame herself for the disappearance or even destruction of her tutor, and the unbearable sorrow might lead to drastic consequences.

Raoul picked up that portfolio again. There was something he dared not tell her that he had just come back from the remains of Opera Populaire, as the patron, to deal with the aftermath of the accident and to decide whether to start the overall investigation on the Opera Ghost. He was as cautious as possible to handle the dilemma, and he hoped that his decisions had been right. Just as Erik set them two free, he did not want to disturb his peace as well. Erik Dessler would be safe from the police and from gossip, although Raoul was pretty sure that he would end up committing suicide. Erik had lost Christine, his opera house, his masterpieces and his instrument to perform his works… everything he had spent a lifetime to care about. He would not survive this.

That morning Raoul had accompanied Madame Giry to the underground lair once more, helping her to collect Erik's belongings and works. He was allowed to keep Erik's sketches while Madame Giry was to protect his music from being exposed to public without the author's permission. He didn't know that he had taken responsibility for preserving the story of a broken man's heart and the surprising purity of his soul, along with his unachievable longings.

Raoul stared at the beautiful portrait of Christine on the first page of the folio. Erik had never asked Christine to be the model of his paintings or sculptures. He did this merely according to his memory. No one else understood Christine better than him, not even Madame Giry. Erik Dessler noticed Christine when she was a nobody, and he made her somebody with his devotion, while Raoul didn't pay the slightest attention to the ballerinas on entering the opera house, although he deduced now that it must have been the first time Christine saw him in that grand hall. Maybe he wouldn't have recognized her if his eyes hadn't been drawn to the gorgeous diva on stage.

Then, after so many years' endeavor, had that Dessler guy really given up? Was he willing to accept the result in vain? Would he ever make himself forget the intoxicating kiss of Christine's? Or… would he regret? Raoul was concerned.

* * *

**In the next Chapter, we will go back to Erik and see whether he has made his decisions. Erik and Christine will surely encounter again...in the next few chapters. Just be patient.**

**Today is the birthday of Steven, to whom the story is dedicated. Wishing him a happy birthday...**

**I'm having the midterm exams soon, and the next update is expected to be at the end of April. Thanks for your support!**

**I'd like to thank Sketchy88, Ivana Review, _anonymus_ and Torry-Riddle for their encouragement at the very beginning of this phanfic. I will do my best to reduce my grammar mistakes. :)**


End file.
